About that ride yesterday morning- what can I say- getting out of town is a lot of work.

I will be blogging from the cradle of country music, bypassing Ruby Falls, and looking towards the great outdoors by Friday. You can pick up one of those hurricance tracking maps they print on the grocery bags at Publix and follow my progress. Doesn’t that sound fun!

With the Spaghetti 100 over, and the official closing of Razorback I’m sure people have things to say about the weekend riding, but they probably won’t say them here so good luck finding that.

Me? Why yes, I had a nice weekend thank you. W.B. and I rolled out at 3:00 on Friday and put the crush on all of the North side trails. We even rolled the skinny little bridge and the big lop-sided bridge. The orange trail (sshh!) and Redbug. It was big fun. That W.B., he’s a real tough guy out there.

After that I stayed up all night singing and playing hits of the 80’s on the back deck with a couple of local rock legends. Ever heard of the Elcan Boys? No? How about Betty’s Beauty School? No?

Oh well, trust me, it was epic all the same.

See you around the way,


4 Responses to

  1. Have a safe trip and an epic time. I feel certain you will.
    If you do feel the need to go to Ruby Falls, take my advice and don’t get on the elevator with any little fat boys who look like they might be “gassy” and then joke about toxic fumes the entire trip down into the earth and into the cavern.
    Just saying.

  2. If you’re not going to VISIT RUBY FALLS, at least SEE ROCK CITY.

    Hey, that Spaghetti’s a well-provisioned race, what with the sags, the black beans and rice in Boston and the finish-line pasta. I think Sasquatch and I put on a few pounds.

    Sasquatch flogged me through the first 40 miles or so, gobbling up the half-dozen or so other riders ahead of us (most of the action’s in the true century). Then we rode with a guy slumming in the metric so he could get home to his wife and new baby. At about mile 54 my legs sent twitches in morse code telling me to slow down. I sent Sas and his new friend on up ahead. For a few miles I had only my twitchy legs for company. Two beautiful co-eds from the FSU triathlon team passed me near the end as I was grannying up hills and trying to avoid the Mother of All Cramps. And then I dined.

  3. Yeah, the Spaghetti was really fun, and a novelty for me since I’ve never participated in a road bike event like that before. The weather was sparkling perfect, and there were a lot of REALLY clean road bikes to sparkle. I always forget that for a significant number of road cyclists, their bike is a piece of lovingly cared for art, hanging in their garage. Some of those bikes would look good (and be clean enough) to hang on the wall.

    The two groups of hammerheads were the roadies who finished 100 miles in around 4 hours and 45 minutes, and the off-road metric century folks who must have really gone hard because a few of them left at 8:10 and were back in what I’d still call the morning. Bike Church in a different cathedral.

    Food was good, too.

  4. tzz-zztz-zzz wow
    RazorBack Funeral Ride ranked up there somewhere between the olympic opening ceremony and the 7th astral plane.

    Dude. You were right about the pole barn universe. The whole JB family has radical horse-pitality. You should have seen the beautiful maidens carrying aloft huge platters of delights. The dog/roasted chicken performances to reggae. The clouds of epicurean perspective distortions. The icebergs of bottled-brews representing every country on earth.

    – and then there was the riding…

    No organized race, but hundreds riding, riding, riding one last time. Most riders overdoing it, just because anything less than everything seemed an insult to the trail called razorback.

    Back at the camping area: speeches from the local gods of mt.biking, the short-circuit transgendered race (10 laps in 5 minutes)won by Ryan Goodall in a pink thong? or was it a “bannana hammock” that somebody called it.

    The last nightride, shining, sad, group glowings through the whole eleven miles.

    sigh. what else to say but damn, that trail was is the best condition ever. now never.